


Tidings of Comfort and Joy

by natlet



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natlet/pseuds/natlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone's bringing the holiday spirit to Oswald State. Forcibly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tidings of Comfort and Joy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lisacali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisacali/gifts).



> More holiday crack for Magi!

Two days into December, mistletoe appears in the doorway to the cafeteria. Leo has the CO's take it down, and expects that to be the end of it.

They take it down fifty-two more times in the next week and a half. Leo settles in for a long month.

*

"It's a stupid idea."

Leo sighs. "Claire," he says, very patiently.

"We've never done it before, and I for one don't need another freaking thing to do this year - "

"You know," says McManus, "You're the only one who's got a problem with - "

Pete narrows her eyes. "Tim - "

" - not to mention I don't wanna give half these assholes the time of day, let alone some cheap piece of shit - "

"It's just a little holiday cheer, there's no need to be such a bitch about it - "

"Shut the fuck up, McManus," Howell says, "It's not like anyone would want to get your skinny cocksucking ass a present either - "

McManus pushes back from the table and stands, Howell mirroring his movement. "Who you calling - "

 _"Enough,"_ Leo snaps. He scrubs a hand down over his face, sighs heavily. "I just thought maybe we could have a nice, warm, friendly holiday season for once, but clearly - "

"Yeah, and everyone's on board except the Grinch over here - "

Leo slams his hands against the table, leans forward. "I said, that's enough," he says "Shut up, and sit the fuck down. Both of you."

"Screw your secret santa," Howell says, and storms out of the library.

*

"I don't know where it came from, ma'am," Joe says.

The woman huffs. "Well," she says. "I just wanted to make sure you knew how inappropriate it is." She shoots a glare over her shoulder at the wreath mounted on the wall, hanging against the green marble. "Overtly religious displays have no place in public buildings."

"No, ma'am," Joe agrees, and he promises the woman it'll be removed, and he doesn't mention the two hours he'd spent that morning picking tiny plastic angels out of the greenery.

*

Motion in the quad draws his attention, and McManus swivels his desk chair toward the windows. "What the fuck is that?"

Murphy puts down his paperwork, stands, heads over to the windows. "Looks like a fruitcake," he says helpfully.

McManus rolls his eyes. "No shit it's a fruitcake," he says. "What's it doing on the control tower?"

"Waiting to be eaten?"

McManus snorts, turns back to the file he'd been reviewing.

"Or," Murphy says, after a second or two, "it's waitin' for Cyril to decide it'd make a great frisbee." He makes a face, already reaching for his radio as he heads for the door. "Pour me a drink, if you got anything left. I'll be right back."

The bottle of scotch in his desk drawer is getting low. McManus frowns at it, frowns at the calendar on his desk, pours the remains of the bottle into two glasses. If he's going to set a new personal record for alcohol consumption in the workplace, he figures, the holiday season is as good a time to do it as any. He drains one glass, only hesitates for a second before scooping up the other one, empties that too. It's already been a long fucking month, and what Murphy doesn't know won't hurt him.

*

Three hours after lights out, Oswald's as close to peaceful as it ever gets. The hallways and staff areas are deserted, the cell blocks mostly quiet. Occasionally the beam from a CO's flashlight slices through the darkness, from time to time there's the sound of footsteps on a staircase, but by now he knows the routine. He works methodically through the building; ties a fresh bow on the wreath in the lobby, re-hangs the mistletoe in the cafeteria, leaves a small package labeled "Claire" under the sad little tree in the staff room. He's almost home-free, just a few doors down from the locker room - but Warden Glynn pops out of the gym, towel slung around his neck.

"Jason," he says. "I thought you worked the morning shift today."

Armstrong nods. "Yes, sir," he says. "I, uh - forgot my bag." He holds it up, hoping Glynn won't notice he's headed toward the locker room, not away from it, and shit, has he pulled it off this long only to get caught on Christmas Eve -

But Glynn just smiles, claps him on the shoulder. "Snow's started," he says. "Be careful getting home. And Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Warden," Armstrong says, and makes tracks out the door into the night.


End file.
